A problem in the Arctic as polar bears and people face a warming world

“Can I give you some advice about polar bears?” asks T, a confident 13-year-old we met during a visit to a high school in Churchill, Canada.

“If there's a bear that close to you, make a fist — and hit it in the nose,” she says, measuring a distance of about 30 centimeters with her hands.

“Polar bears have very sensitive noses, and they will run away.”

T didn't have to put that advice to the test. But growing up here – alongside Earth's largest predator – means bear safety has become part of everyday life.

Signs in shops and cafes remind anyone heading outside to be 'mindful'. My favorite reads: “If a polar bear attacks you, you should Fight again.”

Escaping from a charging polar bear is – perhaps unexpectedly – dangerous. A bear's instinct is to chase prey and polar bears can run at speeds of 25 mph (40 km/h).

Key tip: Be alert and aware of your surroundings. Don't walk alone at night.

Churchill is known as the Polar Bear Capital of the World. Every year, Hudson Bay—on whose western edge the town is located—melts, forcing bears ashore. Come fall, hundreds of bears gather here and wait.

“We have freshwater rivers flowing into the area and cold water coming from the Arctic,” explains Alyssa McCall of Polar Bears International (PBI). “So the freezing happens here first.

“For polar bears, sea ice is like a big dinner plate – access to their main prey, the seals. They're probably excited about a big meal of seal blubber – they haven't eaten much all summer on land.”

There are 20 known subgroups of polar bears across the Arctic. This is one of the most southern and best-studied regions.

“They're the fat, white, hairy canaries in the coal mine,” Alyssa explains. “We had about 1,200 polar bears here in the 1980s and we lost about half of them.”

decline It depends on the amount of time the bay is now ice-free, a period that is getting longer as the climate warms. No sea ice means no frozen platform for seal hunting.

“The bears here now live on Earth a month longer than their ancestors did,” Alyssa explains. “This puts stress on mothers. (With food shortages) it becomes difficult to stay pregnant and keep these babies.”

Although their long-term survival is risky, the bears attract conservationists and thousands of tourists to Churchill every year.

We joined a group from PBI to hunt for bears in the sub-Arctic tundra – just a few miles from town. The team travels in a Tundra buggy, a type of off-road bus with huge tires.

After several distant viewings, we have a heart-stopping close encounter. A young bear approaches and checks out our slow two-caravan. He leans up, sniffs one of the vehicles, then jumps up and plants two giant feet on the side of the vehicle.

The bear casually dips down on all fours, then looks up and stares at me briefly. It is very disorienting to look at the face of an animal that is both adorable and potentially deadly at the same time.

“You could see him sniffing the car and even licking it, using all his senses to investigate,” says Jeff York of PBI, who has worked in the Arctic for more than three decades.

Being here in “bear season” means Jeff and his colleagues can test new techniques for detecting bears and protecting people. The PBI team is currently fine-tuning the radar-based system called “bear-dar.”

The experimental platform, a long antenna equipped with 360-degree detectors, was installed on the roof of a hut in the middle of the tundra, near Churchill.

“He has artificial intelligence, so here we can basically teach him what a polar bear is,” Jeff explains. “This works 24/7, and can see at night and in poor visibility conditions.”

Protecting the community is the mission of the Polar Bear Alert Team – trained rangers who patrol Churchill every day.

We ride with ranger Ian Van Neste, who is searching for a stubborn bear he and his colleagues had tried to chase earlier that day. “He turned around and headed back (towards) Churchill. He didn't seem interested in leaving,” he added.

For bears that intend to hang around town, the team can use a live trap: a tube-shaped container, filled with seal meat, with a door that the bear opens when it climbs inside.

“Then we put them in the detention centre,” Ian explains. The bears are held for 30 days, a period designed to teach the bear that coming to town in search of food is a negative, but that it does not endanger the animal's health.

They are then transported – either on the back of a trailer or sometimes airlifted by helicopter – and released along the bay, away from people.

Cyril Fridlund, who works at the new Churchill Science Observatory, remembers the last time someone was killed by a polar bear at Churchill, in 1983.

“It was in town,” he says. “The guy was homeless and was in an abandoned building at night. There was a little bear there too — he dropped it with his paw, like it was a seal.”

People came to help, but they couldn't keep the bear away from the man, Cyril recalls. “It was as if he was guarding his meal.”

The Polar Bear Alert Program was created around that time. No one has been killed by a polar bear here since.

Cyril is now a technician at the new Churchill Marine Observatory (CMO). Part of her remit is to understand exactly how this environment will respond to climate change.

Under its retractable roof are two giant swimming pools filled with water pumped directly from Hudson Bay.

“We can do all kinds of controlled experimental studies to look at changes in the Arctic,” says Professor Feiyu Wang.

One effect of reduced ice in Hudson Bay is a longer operating season for the port, which is currently closed for nine months of the year. A longer season during which the bay melts and becomes open water could mean more ships entering and exiting Churchill.

Studies are being conducted at the observatory to improve the accuracy of sea ice forecasts. The research will also examine the risks associated with port expansion. One of the first investigations is an experimental oil spill. The scientists plan to release the oil into a pond, test cleaning techniques and measure how quickly the oil decomposes in cold water.

For Churchill Mayor Mike Spence, understanding how to plan for the future, especially when it comes to shipping goods in and out of Churchill, is vital to the city's future in a warming world.

“We are already looking to extend the season,” he says, referring to the port, which has stopped operating for the winter. “In ten years, this will be noisy.”

Climate change poses a challenge to the polar bear capital of the world, but the mayor is optimistic. “We have a great city, a great community,” he says. “And the summer season — (when people come to see beluga whales in the Gulf) — is growing.”

“We are all challenged by climate change,” he adds. “Does this mean you'll cease to exist? No – you're adapting. You're working out how to take advantage of it.”

While Mike Spence says the “future is bright” for Churchill, it may not be so bright for the polar bears.

Tea and her friends look out at the bay from the window at the back of the school building. Polar Bear Alert Team vehicles gather outside, trying to keep the bear away from the city.

“If climate change continues,” muses T’s colleague Charlie, “polar bears might stop coming here.”

The teacher approaches to make sure the children have someone coming to pick them up – and that they're not going home alone. It's all part of the daily routine in the polar bear capital of the world.